rock climbing adventurist mutants who listen to new age punk rock while base jumping from the before said cliff they just rock climbed without a harness.
Alarm systems clanging,as the rushed footsteps get louder and louder, your heart beat thumps faster and faster as beads of sweat run down your face, suddenly the footsteps come to a end and the door to your chamber is thrown open, sir, sir the young corporal pants, i have a urgent message from HQ.
What you tersely whisper from your crouched position hiding under the desk, trembling, holding your self trying to think of better days before you were the general before the war when you were a simple guy with a simple family in a simple life.
General sir, finally catching his breath, the mutants, sir they are still rock climbing up the cliff towards the compound, the air already fills with their new age punk rock and the guards they cant stand it anymore, sir they are going mad, all they can hear is the punk rock day and night.
the morgue is filling up with guards who without naught but any option, its horrible they only just found your lieutenant maniacal they found him hanging from his fan, pants around his ankles and pecker flying in the wind, there was a note all it said was i wished i could have been on the forum more frequently.
Sergeant Hans was found scribbling Justin Beiber over and over on the walls in his own blood and feces, fingers gorged to the bone, he was insensibly muttering that the music wont stop, the music wont stop.
Enough you scream clutching at your chest, i already know about the bloody music, it wont stop it never stops, i haven't slept in four days, get whats left of the men together we need to end this
Suddenly there is explosions overhead and the air fills with the sound of guns firing, sir the young corporal turns, his face white, clutching his radio to his ear, the mutants sir they have climbed the cliff face up past our base they have just base jumped into the compound, sir they will be on us in minuets.
You frantically dive back under the table, muttering, eyes wild in fear you can feel the blood pulsating through your veins, your heart hammers harder and harder feeding into your fear, your chest becomes tight, constricted, your sweat cold and clammy, your breath short and rapid, then you feel a burning pain first in your arms then coursing down your back into your legs, you leak a bit but only a little bit.
as you role over onto your side, cheek against the cold floor beneath searching for some kind of comfort, your heart under so much pressure, fueled by the fire of your fear suddenly misses a beat, your eyes dim your breath slows your blood calms and in that moment you know you are about to die, not in some valiant battle not with a pistol n one hand and a sword in another upon a mountain of mutant corpses but from fear the fear that you couldn't lead your men to victory the fear of what if you failed but most notably the fear of adventure seeking mutants with a penchant for new age punk rock.
the door crashes open the room floods with the horrendous sounds of Beiber, Gaga and Cyrus, your young corporal, fresh out of the academy with so much promise so much future, runs at the mutants only to fall to his knees his ears bleeding as Beiber launches into as long as you love me, he screams a deep guttural primal scream and with shaking hands clutches his standard issue service pistol to his temple, he turns to you stares you in the eyes knowing that you should have helped him you should have overcome your fears and as he pulls the trigger, your heart gives one final pulse, your body spasms and then you lay still lying on the floor in the compound a victim of your own fears.
The mutants look at each other, shrug and pull off their masks, complaining all they wanted was some candy, Moral of the story: Bloody Tweens
